Natural Disaster (Book 1): Erupt

by Lou Cadle

  After another hour of struggle, they reached a meadow, still alive with wildflowers. Not ash nor lahar nor nuee ardente had touched it. Ty called another rest and they set down the stretcher.

  “Maybe you should leave me here,” said the pilot.

  “No,” said the woman. “We all go together.”

  Ty said, “I can see you’re hurting. I wish we could make it easier for you somehow.”

  “Leave me,” the pilot said, “and make good time going down. That’ll make it easier.”

  “It isn’t safe to stay,” said Norio. He’d like no burden, would prefer to run down the slope alone. But he couldn’t in good conscience do that without giving the pilot full information. He felt tied to these four as if with chains, but he couldn’t use duplicity to release himself of the burden. Nothing was more important than truth, finding it, publishing it, or even just saying it. “There could be a secondary eruption.”

  “What’s that mean?” the woman asked. “There was a second one, right?”

  He said, “No, like with Vesuvius. What happens is, the upper magma is less mafic, but once it’s gone, then you get down to the really powerful stuff.”

  “You mean, it will get worse?” asked the pilot.

  Akroyd said, “It could.”

  “What’s ‘mafic?’” asked the woman.

  “Acidic,” said Norio. “The magma beneath the first wave has more volatiles.”

  “More unstable and explosive,” said Akroyd. “And possibly generates more pyroclastic clouds, like the one that just missed getting you two.”

  Ty stood. “Then we need to get going, quit resting so often. Get off the mountain.”

  Norio stifled a protest. The man was right. The sooner they got down, the safer they and the data would be. The sooner they got down, the sooner CVO would have his video, the sooner he could get in the lab and download the gas data.

  A half hour of hiking later, Akroyd said, “Stop. Everybody stop.”

  “What?” said Norio, irritated. They’d never get down the mountain at this rate. Still, it was a relief to set down the stretcher for a moment. He rubbed at his left shoulder. His left hand burned as blood flowed back in.

  “Don’t you smell it?” said Akroyd. “Smoke.”

  The woman shook her head but Ty, his nose lifted like a retriever’s, said, “Yeah. I do.”

  “Maybe it’s a wood fire?” said the woman hopefully. “A house nearby?”

  “I hope,” said the pilot.

  “I bet it’s a fire, a wildfire” said Akroyd. “Started by the pyroclasts.”

  “So it’s probably to the south of us,” Norio said. He still couldn’t smell anything, which irked him. If it were only Akroyd saying so, he’d question the man’s senses, but since the hiker had agreed, Norio was inclined to believe two of them. “Since we’re going cross-country anyway, let’s cut due north for a while,” he said. “And fast as we can.”

  They switched places and picked up the stretcher again, aiming more toward the north. Norio had passed his dedicated GPS unit to the pilot who navigated for them from his supine position. The natural inclination was to find valleys to follow down, and Norio had to keep reminding them of the danger of that. Valleys were where the danger of lahars and nuee aredente were the highest. The footing was more reliable on higher ground anyway. They struggled along ridges with their burden. Norio caught a whiff of burning wood. It gave him new strength. “Let’s hurry,” he said.

  24

  Ellen caught the note of fear in Norio’s voice. He must have finally smelled the smoke, too. The damned trees were so dense, a fire could be chasing them from less than a quarter mile away, and they’d not know it until it was right on them. A waft of smoke in the air would be indistinguishable from a bit of drifting ash.

  Ty, bless the man, called another halt. “We can’t go on forever. And maybe I can get up there—see that little rise?—and get some sort of view on things, look for that fire.”

  Ellen hated to see him split apart from the group, but she bit her lip against saying so and let him go. When he was out of sight in the trees, she said something that had been weighing on her mind for over an hour now. “We need to lighten this load.”

  “How?” said Norio.

  “The instruments you guys are carrying. Leave them here. Come back for them later.”

  “No way,” said Norio.

  “Look,” she said. “I can see the size of that thing you took off the helicopter. You must both be aching from schlepping that. And, here.” She began pulling out the clothes she had tucked along the side of Corey. “My and Ty’s things. We’ll leave them, too.”

  “You should layer what clothes you have, and we should all put on any extras,” said Akroyd. “I mean, if you don’t mind sharing what you don’t need. It’s after five. It’s going to get cold tonight.”

  Night. Cripes. Let them not still be out at night. But the idea of that firmed her resolve. “Good idea. Everything else, everything not useful for first aid or warmth, we need to let go.”

  “There’s a lot of important data in here,” said Norio, taking a step back, as if she might rip the backpack off him.

  “There’s a man’s life at stake here,” she said. “No, strike that. Five lives are at stake, including yours.”

  “Everything we learn about volcanoes can save thousands of lives down the road. Every bit of this information is precious.”

  Irritating man. “So is every person here. Lives saved on down the road? That’s a maybe. That’s one day. This is now and here. We five need to get off this mountain.”

  “There’s a full moon tonight,” said Akroyd, “or nearly full. But with the ash and the mountain blocking it, it’s probably not going to help us see until midnight or after.”

  “I’m not leaving this equipment, lady,” said Norio.

  “You don’t know my name yet? You’ve heard it a dozen times. Ellen!”

  “I don’t care about being sociable. All I care about is getting this data back to Vancouver.”

  “All I care about is surviving, so we have something of a problem, don’t we?”

  Akroyd surprised her by starting in on Norio, too. “It’s not such a big deal to leave the instruments here. C’mon. If they do get lost in a fire or eruption, Kate isn’t going to care. She’s going to care that we’re okay. Instruments can be replaced. People can’t.”

  “Data is forever,” said Norio. “People aren’t.”

  Ellen had an idea. “Hey. Ty told me about how easy it is to ping a cell phone. So if you have a phone, you can leave it with your stuff, and you’ll be able to find your way back to it.”

  Norio sputtered, obviously too offended at the idea to speak.

  Corey weighed in. “Naw, we’ll just take a GPS reading where it gets left. Totally easy to find it then.”

  “Better idea,” said Ellen, eying Norio warily. The man sure knew how to get a huff on. He reminded her of a middle school student caught breaking rules, and indignant about being caught.

  Norio walked off, muttering about relieving himself. She turned her full attention back to the pilot. “Thanks again.”

  “Glad I’m useful for something.”

  “You got us out of the danger zone,” she said. “To me, you’re more than useful. You’re my savior.”

  “I’m the weight you should jettison, not the instruments.”

  Ellen shook her head. “You didn’t abandon us. We won’t abandon you.” She studied the pilot’s face. It was pale and strained. “You look pretty bad. Are you okay?”

  “I’m fine.”

  “Want water?”

  “No. I’m a little queasy.”

  Ellen felt for the guy. In pain, getting jostled around with every step. She’d feel sick too.

  While she had been focusing on the pilot, Norio and Akroyd had joined up again, a few steps away. Akroyd continued to work away at Norio. Good. Ellen was losing patience with the man, and she didn’t trust herself to say much more.<
br />
  She pulled the sleeping bag off the pilot and began tossing socks and underwear and dirty Tshirts overboard. The zippered container with toiletries and the unused condom—stupid me not to use it while I had the chance, she thought again. Hair brush. She should have done this at first. Wasn’t thinking clearly. Something about a volcanic eruption and a helicopter crash seemed to have muddled her brain. Imagine that.

  Not hesitating to go through Ty’s things too, she set aside a sweatshirt of his and her jacket to keep. Akroyd and Ty were close in size. She’d have to offer up one of her extra layers to Norio, who was smaller, and he was pissing her off enough that she wasn’t in the mood to do it right now. Ty had a flannel shirt, which she added to the pile. She’d wait for Ty and let him hand it over to Akroyd.

  And she didn’t much want to pull heavier clothes on over the crust of ash that still coated her arms, not until she had to. No way they could afford to use water for more washing. She and Ty had washed their faces and she had been able to brush some of it out of her hair after the helicopter had crashed, but not all. It had dried into a helmet of filth. She’d probably have to shave herself bald when this was over. That’d be attractive.

  No, not “when this was over,” she reminded herself, but “if she survived,” which wasn’t certain. Come to think of it, baldness wouldn’t be so bad, would it? Not when compared to deadness.

  One way to increase the odds of survival was to quicken their pace, if only the tiniest bit. Maybe a lighter load would make up for how exhaustion was slowing them as the day wore on. No one had said it aloud, but surely they all noticed, as she did. They’d been crawling along for this past hour. At this rate….

  She imagined having to stay out all night, with insufficient warmth, five of them huddled together under two sleeping bags on the forest floor. And then another day of hiking, with no water left, no food to fuel them. What if the mountain erupted harder as it got down to that nastier magma the scientists had talked about? Damn it, no. They couldn’t risk that. They needed to get off this mountain tonight, no matter what it took.

  Ty came trotting back, twigs snapping under his feet. “I can see a line of smoke to the south, but it’s a few miles away. Winds are still northwesterly. I think we should be safe from the fire if the winds don’t shift.”

  She breathed a sigh of relief. “We’re getting rid of extra weight.” Akroyd and Norio were still speaking together a few steps off. “There’s your flannel shirt—thought you might want to offer it to Akroyd and keep your sweatshirt.”

  “Good idea.” He lifted her chin with a gentle finger so he could study her face. “You holding up okay?”

  “Wish I were more acclimated to the altitude. I’m probably slowing us all down.”

  “Nope. None of us is a weak link. It’s not like long legs matter in this cross-country hiking.”

  “You want to help Akroyd convince Norio to dump the equipment? I may be doing more harm than good by harping on him.”

  “Let him come to it on his own. Looks like Akroyd can wear him down.”

  She pitched her voice lower. “I’m so tired, Ty.”

  “I know. If it makes you feel any better, I am too.”

  “I feel like my arms are both six inches longer than they were this morning.” Even with four bearers sharing the load, the weight of her corner of the stretcher must have been over fifty pounds.

  “We’ll get down. And this day will end.”

  “As long as it doesn’t end by our dying.”

  “It won’t.”

  “And you know this how?”

  “I have a feeling. Don’t worry.”

  She opened her mouth to say something smart, but stopped herself. Why not take it as the comfort it was intended to be? “Okay,” she said.

  He grinned at her. “You were about to say…?”

  “That you’re very kind, and your optimism is heartwarming, and I fear I’m being something of a bitch.”

  “You’re terrific.” He ducked his head down and said softly, “Just to let you know, I’d kiss you hard right now to emphasize the point if I weren’t covered in this stuff.”

  “Yeah, it’d sort of be like kissing sandpaper. Bad-tempered sandpaper.”

  “You never lose your sense of humor, do you?”

  “Usually, the more stress I’m under, the more it comes out, and in nasty little points, too. I’m biting my tongue all the time right now against the urge.” She looked over to the two scientists who were finally shedding, thank all the gods, the backpacks. “We’d better get going again soon.”

  “I’m not giving up my cell phone,” said Norio, petulantly, as she and Ty watched him.

  Ellen tried to make peace. “I wouldn’t want you to. One of these days, we’ll get a signal, and I want you all to have your cell phones ready to call for help.”

  “Not because of that. Because I have great video on here,” he said.

  “Sure, that too.” Screw his great video and the chip it rode in on. “Let’s get going. Which way did you see the smoke?” she asked Ty.

  He pointed, and they moved out in the opposite direction.

  25

  Camas, Washington. 2:20 p.m.

  Chad and Francie were slogging through mud again. If he never got muddy again the rest of his life, it’d be too soon. His feet were numb from the cold. And his Achilles was definitely hurting again, and if it weren’t submerged in cold mud, he knew it would hurt much worse. He tried not to think of that or what it meant for the future. Today was more important. They had little time to evacuate the area, barely over a hundred minutes estimated to the next wave of mud, with a dozen long streets to cover.

  They split up, each taking one side of the street, and pounded on doors, yelling their warning. More than half the houses were empty, but there were people still home some of those did not want to leave. About a third of them had found a battery-operated device and already knew they should evacuate. Chad convinced a very few it was the best idea. It was easier to convince those with internet news on—they could see the extent of the disaster. Others stubbornly said they’d stay home. It worried him.

  “Forget about it,” said Francie. “They may come to their senses on their own, or we might have time to come back to them, or maybe they have enough food and water. But first, get everybody one warning, one chance.”

  That did seem fair. So they kept going, house after house, block after block, the minutes until the next lahar wave ticking off. They were approaching the river again. Or rather, Chad thought, the old river course, the streets closest to where it had been at dawn this morning. The river was everywhere now. Chad was about to leave the front stoop of another empty house when he heard the voice calling.

  He held his breath, listened harder. A high, thin voice. Where was it coming from? Inside? No. He trotted down the steps and sloshed around the side of the house. The voice got louder. He was on the right track.

  “Help me. Somebody, please.”

  He walked as fast as he could, skidding his way into the back yard. A fallen cedar fence led to another back yard on the next street over. In that yard, a detached garage had partly collapsed.

  “Somebody over there?” he called.

  “Yes. I’m here. Help me!” The voice came from the collapsed garage.

  He clambered over the fallen fence then slid down the angle on muddy shoes until he was standing in the mud of a back yard.

  “Chad!” Francie, back behind him on the street still. “Damn it, where are you?”

  He shouted as loudly as he could. “I’m here! Behind the green house. Francie. Come on back.”

  The garage had partly collapsed onto a woman—from her voice, someone around his mother’s age. Half of a wall pinned her lower body, which was invisible under the mud. She was muddy everywhere but from her eyes up to crown of her head. At one point, from the looks of it, she must have been straining to keep her nose far enough out of the mud to breathe. The remains of the lahar had receded to below
her chest now. He slid over to her. “Ma’am, I’m Chad Keppler. Camas Fire. We’ll get you out.”

  “Thank God you’re here,” she said, and then she broke down weeping.

  He touched her shoulder. She was distinctly cold to the touch, probably hypothermic, though not shivering—a bad sign, if shivering had come and gone. “You did great saving yourself,” he said. “Looks like your head was almost underwater.”

  She nodded. “I was so sc-scared,” she managed through her sobs.

  He could hear the downed fence snap and glanced around. Francie was sliding down toward them. Good. She’d know what to do.

  She grabbed his arm and spoke low. “Don’t ever do that again. Stay in sight, or tell me where you’re going.”

  “I’m sorry.” She was right.

  Francie knelt in the mud by the woman and started examining her. “Can you move your feet at all?”

  “I think so. I can’t really tell for sure. They’re numb, still.”

  “Do you think you hurt your neck or back?” She examined the woman’s neck as she asked.

  “I don’t think so, no.” The trapped woman was starting to calm. It must have been awful being trapped here alone.

  “Give me some water,” Francie said to Chad.

  She washed the woman’s neck and face then took a closer look around her neck and ears. “Everything seems okay, but I hate moving you without a neck brace and proper equipment.” Francie glanced at her watch.

  Chad had to clean his own watch on his shirt to see it. They had under an hour to free the woman and finish evacuating their area. “Should we call someone else to help?”

  Francie bit her lip. “Everyone else is busy, too. We’re so far into the mud, so close to the river, I’m afraid it’d take too long to get equipment down here. God, I’d love a rescue jack and winch, though. Let’s just try to get it done ourselves.”

  She crawled around the collapsed wall, peering under the edge that jutted out of the mud. When she stood, the expression on her face was not a happy one. “Well,” she said, the uncertainty clear in her tone, “let’s see if you and I can lift it far enough for her to push herself out.”